


Three's a Crowd

by sarahyyy



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: (which i am sorry for these all started out as not-fics), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, M/M, POV Multiple, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 02:42:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4374101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyyy/pseuds/sarahyyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even watching them interact with each other gives him actual flutters in his stomach, and he’s not even going to try to pretend that he’s not very, very attracted to not <i>just</i> one of them, no sir, no, because that would be too easy, and Grantaire never chooses the easy way when it comes to matters of the heart.</p><p>(Or, five interruptions that weren't unwelcome at all.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three's a Crowd

1\. (R + C&E)

Grantaire almost turns to walk away when he sees Enjolras and Combeferre waiting in line to buy a ticket at the cinema. 

Of course he would happen to see them while they’re out on a date. As if it’s not bad enough that he has to see them being all _Enjolras and Combeferre_ in class now that Combeferre is taking a politics paper as his elective this semester. Seriously. It’s the worst. They finish each other’s sentences and then beam at each other and everything. It’s adorable and Grantaire hates it. 

Except no, he really doesn’t, because watching them interact with each other gives him actual flutters in his stomach, and he’s not even going to try to pretend that he’s not very, very attracted to not _just_ one of them, no sir, no, because that would be too easy, and Grantaire never chooses the easy way when it comes to matters of the heart.

Anyway, the point is that he sees them at the cinema, and his first instinct is to run, only Combeferre sees him, and waves him over, and then Enjolras is turning around and smiling at him too, and Grantaire goes, because it’s already an established fact that he’s weak for the both of them.

“Hello,” Combeferre says, when Grantaire gets within earshot. “Are you here alone?”

Grantaire nods, and then spares a moment to wonder if he should’ve maybe lied and pretended that he was waiting for someone, because it’s Friday night and he’s alone, how sad is that? 

“Are you here for the special screening of that nature documentary too?” Enjolras asks, and Combeferre smiles at Enjolras, because he’s got his thinking face on, and presumably, Combeferre can tell what Enjolras is thinking about. 

Grantaire really isn’t here for a documentary. Why would he come to the cinema to watch a documentary? He’s here for the new superhero movie that Gavroche has been raving about for the past two days. 

But he nods anyway, and doesn’t say that out loud, and Combeferre beams at him.

“You should join us,” Combeferre and Enjolras say in unison, and then turn to grin at each other. 

“I shouldn’t,” Grantaire protests. Weakly, yes, but the point is that he tried. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense,” Enjolras says. “We’re going to be in the same theatre anyway, and this way, I would be able to actually watch the documentary, instead of having Combeferre narrate over it.” He grins at Grantaire. “We’ll split the job of listening to Combeferre.”

Grantaire hesitates, but only for a little, because while documentaries aren’t really his thing, and he really did come out with the intention of watching an action movie, he likes it when Combeferre nerds out, loves the crinkle he gets around his eyes when he’s particularly excited about something.

“Come on,” Combeferre says, noticing Grantaire’s hesitation. “It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, okay,” Grantaire says, smiling a little, and only protests minimally when Combeferre and Enjolras buy his popcorn combo. 

—

2\. (C + E&R)

He hears about the it when Courfeyrac mentions something when they’re having dinner, and then gets on a bus to go over to Grantaire’s place after dinner. He lets himself into Grantaire’s apartment, because Grantaire’s apartment is unlocked, and Grantaire has always told them to let themselves in if the door is unlocked. 

He thinks, rather belatedly, that he should’ve gotten dinner for Grantaire, because he doesn’t think that Grantaire will have eaten yet. 

“Grantaire?” he calls out, flicking on the light switch. 

“Bedroom,” a voice that is decidedly not Grantaire’s calls out. 

He makes his way to Grantaire’s bedroom to see Enjolras and Grantaire cuddled together, Grantaire’s head padded on Enjolras’ shoulder, and feels a strange warmth in his chest before it twists into something uncomfortable. He seems to be intruding on something. 

“I just stopped by to check if you’re okay,” Combeferre says. “But I see you’re in good hands. I’ll leave the both of you to it, then?”

Grantaire makes a face at him. “Can you take him with you?” he asks, gesturing at Enjolras. “He refuses to believe me when I say that I’m fine.”

Combeferre arches an eyebrow at him. “ _Are_ you fine?”

“I’m finer than fine,” Grantaire says, and then pats the edge of the bed, gesturing for Combeferre to sit, and Combeferre does. “What’s finer than fine?” Grantaire continues. He furrows his eyebrows, as if deep in thought, then catches the way Enjolras is rolling his eyes at him and says, decisively, “Enjolras. Enjolras is finer than fine.”

Enjolras snorts. “That doesn’t-”

Grantaire shushes him. “What’s finer than Enjolras?” he asks. 

“Combeferre,” Enjolras says almost immediately, even though he shouldn’t be encouraging Grantaire when he’s being ridiculous, and Combeferre has to hide a smile. 

“Wow, that does it then,” Grantaire says, smiling widely. “What could possibly be finer than Combeferre?”

“You are,” Combeferre says, and then, on an impulse, reaches out to lay his hand above Grantaire’s. “I’m sorry your art wasn’t accepted into the exhibition. It was beautiful, and I know you worked really hard on it.”

Grantaire’s smile fades, and his happy expression crumples. “The both of you just won’t quit, will you?” he asks, sighing deeply. He turns his palm over and circles Combeferre’s wrist, tugging lightly until Combeferre is all cuddled up next to him too. “I really thought that piece would’ve been good enough to be showcased,” he says quietly, and Combeferre lets his hold on Grantaire tighten, watches as Enjolras does the same. 

“Well, you could still,” Enjolras says from the other side of Grantaire. “We’ll put up an exhibition for your paintings on our own. We’ll do it at the Musain. Musichetta will love the idea. We’ll make it into a huge event, and the art snobs that turned you down will regret not showcasing your painting.”

Grantaire sniffles a little, and presses his face to Combeferre’s shoulder. 

“Are you crying?” Enjolras says, alarmed. “Oh, don’t cry, please.” He looks over to Combeferre, eyes wide. “What do we do?” he mouths at Combeferre. 

In reply, Combeferre just shifts so Grantaire is positioned more comfortably against him, and starts to rub Grantaire’s back gently. After a moment’s hesitation, Enjolras curls up behind Grantaire, and combs his fingers gently through Grantaire’s hair. 

The strange warmth from before lodges in Combeferre’s chest and refuses to be pushed down this time. He’s got a pretty good idea of what it means, but that’s a thought for a later time.

—

3\. (E + C&R)

Enjolras is still in a sour mood when he gets back to the apartment he shares with Combeferre, but his mood lightens significantly when he smells fresh baking when he steps in through the front door. 

He’d been furiously texting Combeferre through his tutorial, and he’d been a little disappointed when Combeferre hadn’t been replying, but this explains so much. Combeferre likes to concentrate when he’s baking, and Enjolras really hopes that Combeferre thought to bake some of those blueberry scones that he likes so much.

He walks into the kitchen, prepared to ask Combeferre if he needs any help (to which Combeferre will always give him that look that says that he doesn’t want Enjolras to burn their apartment down) and end up ranting to Combeferre about how shitty a person his tutor is. 

He walks in, instead, on Grantaire trying to sprinkle flour on Combeferre’s hair without Combeferre noticing. 

It obviously doesn’t work; Grantaire’s lack of stealth is punctuated by him letting out a laugh. But even though Enjolras knows that Combeferre is faster and more agile than people give him credit for, he is slow to avoid Grantaire’s attack, very possibly on purpose, and ends up facing Grantaire with flour-streaked hair. 

The corner of Enjolras’ lips tug up involuntarily; they look like they’re having fun. Just as that thought passes his head, his smile falls a little, because he probably shouldn’t try to interrupt them and ruin their day with his bad mood, not when they look like they’re having such a good time. Without him around. 

He’s not entirely sure why the thought makes his chest clench tightly, but he supposes that he’ll have more time to think about it in his room.

He’s just about to back slowly out of the kitchen when Combeferre spots him.

“Enjolras!” he calls out, and Grantaire turns over to grin widely at Enjolras too. “We’ve been waiting for you to get back.”

“I’ve challenged Combeferre to a duel to the death,” Grantaire tells Enjolras seriously. “And you’re supposed to judge this duel for us.”

“It’s a bake-off,” Combeferre clarifies dryly, rolling his eyes. “I mentioned that you really liked my blueberry scones, and Grantaire said that his secret scone recipe has a reputation of ruining scones for everyone.” He turns to look at Grantaire, eyes bright with mirth. “I had to put him in his place, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Enjolras echoes, smiling a little at Grantaire’s huff. “I have faith your scones will prove Grantaire wrong.” 

“You won’t be saying that when you try some of mine,” Grantaire says, and comes to Enjolras, ushering him into the kitchen, and pushes a plate into his hands. “Try it.”

Enjolras picks one up and makes a show of observing it thoroughly, when he catches how excited Grantaire looks, and how Combeferre is watching him quietly from the other side of Grantaire, trying (and failing) to look calm and unaffected. 

“It’s got a good colour,” he says, lips twitching, because he knows nothing about what makes a scone good beyond the fact that it should taste delicious, and knows that it’s the right thing to say when it makes Combeferre’s lips curl up too. 

—

4\. (R + C&E)

When neither Enjolras or Combeferre have been replying to his texts, Grantaire puts his foot down, because he knows how focused they can get when they are studying for exams, but from the stories Courfeyrac have been telling him, Grantaire is pretty sure they won’t be subsisting on more than coffee and pop tarts, and that’s just— 

No.

So he puts his foot down, and makes his way to the supermarket, gets groceries, and buses down to their apartment. No-one answers the door when he knocks, but when he tries the door on a whim, he finds that it’s unlocked, to which he just sighs in exasperation because while they live in a decent neighbourhood, leaving their door unlocked is probably not the smartest thing to do. 

“Combeferre? Enjolras?” he calls out when he steps in, and no-one responds.

When he makes his way into the living room, he finds Enjolras sprawled out on the couch, highlighter tucked behind his ear, hair held up in a bun with a spare pencil, glaring hard at his textbook, and Combeferre sitting cross-legged on the floor, a few medical textbooks splayed across the coffee table that he seems to have claimed. 

“Combeferre, have you seen my-” Enjolras starts.

“Under the couch,” Combeferre says, without looking up from his book. 

“Right,” Grantaire says, when neither of them even seems to notice that he’s there, and definitely doesn’t spare a moment to mourn over the fact that they’re perfect together. He makes a face at the empty, coffee-stained cups on the ground instead. “When was the last time either of you ate actual food?” 

Combeferre doesn’t even twitch at that, but Enjolras looks up at that, perking up slightly. “Did you say food?” he asks, which is all the answer Grantaire needs.

“Hello, Enjolras, it’s nice to see you too,” Grantaire says dryly. “I’m commandeering your kitchen, don’t mind me. I would ask you both to rest, but I don’t think you would listen, so, do your thing, but once lunch is done, you’re both taking a break to eat food.”

He takes the bags of groceries into the kitchen and sets about working. He makes spaghetti for lunch, and then decides that it’ll be no use trying to get Combeferre or Enjolras to leave their position to come for food, so he dishes it up and brings it to them, before he goes back into the kitchen and sets out cooking more food, making sure that they’re things that they can just pop into the microwave to reheat when they’re feeling the need for food. It definitely beats the idea of them eating pop tarts to survive, which is the point. 

He’s still checking up on the potato bake when Combeferre shuffles into the kitchen. 

“I made more food,” Grantaire tells him. “I’m going to pack them up and refrigerate them, so the next time you’re feeling hungry, take something out from the fridge and heat it up.” He looks pointedly at the bin, which is pretty much filled with pop tart wrappers. “I’m confiscating your pop tarts.”

Combeferre blinks. “Thank you,” he says. “You didn’t have to-”

Grantaire shushes him, because he can feel his cheeks heat up, and he’s pretty sure he’s blushing. “I couldn’t let the both of you die from malnutrition,” he says, flippant.

“All the same, thank you,” Combeferre says, and smiles at him. “I would hug you, but I can’t remember the last time I showered.”

That startles a laugh out of Grantaire. “Rain check, then?”

Combeferre’s smile widens, and Grantaire’s heart beats erratically. 

From the living room, Enjolras yells, “Is there more food?”

Grantaire grins at that, and tells himself that it’s futile to keep himself from liking the both of them so ridiculously much.

—

5\. (E + C&R)

Enjolras is rooted to the ground he’s standing on. There’s no other word for it. He doesn’t think that he could move right now even if he wanted to, and he definitely should, because Grantaire and Combeferre are making out on the couch, and they’re both very, very unclothed. 

He swallows, and feels his breaths coming short, and he’s trying not to, but he can’t take his eyes off the way Grantaire is mouthing at Combeferre’s neck, the way Combeferre’s fingers are tangled in Grantaire’s hair, the way they’re both grinding against each other.

The unbidden ache in his chest comes back again.

 _Jealousy_ , his brain provides helpfully, because that’s what it is, that’s what it must be. He was jealous that they were enjoying each other’s company without him those weeks ago, and he’s jealous _now_. 

He wants to kiss Combeferre like that too, he thinks. And he wants to be able to touch Grantaire the way Combeferre is doing now.

 _Oh_ , he thinks.

“Oh,” he says, and Grantaire pulls away from Combeferre, and the both of them stare at him. “Fuck,” Enjolras breathes out. “I’m sorry. I’ll just- Go.” He swallows, and he still can’t look away from them, from the uneven rise of their chests. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, voice cracking, from disappointment or shame or arousal, he can’t really tell.

“No, wait,” Grantaire blurts out, and then freezes when words don’t come to him. He turns to look at Combeferre, as if imploring Combeferre to take over, and Combeferre does.

“You can leave if you want to,” Combeferre says slowly, as if he’s still working the right words to say out in his head, “but you don’t have to go if you… If you want to stay.”

Enjolras swallows. “To watch or to participate?” he asks, voice gravelly. 

Grantaire’s lips part on a shaky breath. “Either. Both,” he says. 

Combeferre smiles. “What do you want, E?”

He wants to watch, to touch, to kiss, to feel them both come apart, that much is easy to decipher. But it’s more than that. He wants to be with them, wants them to all be together, wants so much more than just a random, fleeting moment, and he needs to make that clear to them, but he’s not entirely sure _how_ , because they’re both still looking at him, eyes dark with arousal and anticipation, and Combeferre has started to thumb circles over Grantaire’s hipbone now, and it’s so hypnotising to watch.

“Well?” Combeferre asks, and it’s clear from the tiny smirk on his face that he knows that he’s being distracting and all too enticing. 

“Everything,” Enjolras blurts out. “I want everything with you. The both of you.”

From the way they smile, it seems that he isn’t the only one who has been having… _feelings_. He thinks about asking them when they realised, if he’s the only one who hadn’t realised till now, but then decides that there are more important things at hand when Combeferre kisses the back of Grantaire’s neck and wraps his hand around Grantaire’s cock again.

“God,” Enjolras breathes out. He makes his way to the couch, drops down on his knees by it, and reaches up to cup the back of Grantaire’s neck. “I want to- May I kiss you?”

Grantaire nods and then hums, content and satisfied, when Enjolras kisses him. His lips part for Enjolras, and then they’re kissing, slow and easy and _so good_ , like it’s something they’ve been doing for awhile now. He pulls away from Grantaire and turns to Combeferre, and lets Combeferre close the gap between their lips, and lets out an involuntary moan when Combeferre bites down on his lower lip. 

Grantaire laughs. “He’s got a biting problem, doesn’t he?” he asks Enjolras. 

“Are you complaining?” Combeferre asks, tightening his grip of Grantaire’s cock, leaning down to bite sharply at Grantaire’s shoulder.

“No complaints at all,” Grantaire says breathily, and noses at Enjolras’ jaw. 

Enjolras closes his hand over Combeferre, lets his fingers fill in the between the empty slots of Combeferre’s, and helps Combeferre to set a rhythm that gets Grantaire whining. 

“No complaints at all,” Enjolras echoes, smiling, when Grantaire comes, gripping Combeferre’s arm tightly, pressing his face into the crook of Enjolras’ neck.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [here on Tumblr](http://sarah-yyy.tumblr.com/), come say hi!


End file.
